I know I am treading on dangerous territory, as I have just sat down to write with nothing in particular on my mind.

But, I haven’t blogged in a while and I know my tens of readers are dying to know what we’ve been up to all this time.

First of all, we’ve been sick. Call-for-your-mamma-and-cry-like-a-baby kinda sick. Yuck. It’s almost over with. Of course, I was the last one to go, so I’m still trying to recover. We also had a house guest in the middle of it. I put on my game face and tried not to look like I was dying. I think I did alright. Thankfully, it was a bona fide Doula staying with us. Doulas, in case you don’t know, are magical little fairies that do things like wash your dishes after you go to bed, read your kids a story for you, and shrink wrap and label hundreds of bars of soap for you. Oh, and they attend births to offer labor support and all that good stuff too. Worth their weight in gold, those Doulas! Sigh.

Our garden is growing in leaps and bounds. We have lots and lots of foliage and flowers…. and just a little fruit. I haven’t seen very many bees this year, so I’m wondering if my plants are not getting pollinated very well. We are about to have some cucumbers (finally), 1 (one) red bell pepper, and our pole beans are about 10 feet tall, so I’m assuming any day now they will be bursting with beans. We’ve been getting plenty of grape tomatoes and strawberries, but the kids pick them and eat them before they ever make it into the house. And okra. Plenty of okra. At least I know I’m good at growing one thing.

Soap room is finished. I’m going to video it soon and share, I promise. It’s a wonderful, inspiring space to work in and I L O V E it!

I’m pretty sure that Charis has such a low pain tolerance that she will have medicated child birth. I’m a little worried about this, but I think that if I start brushing her tangles out a little harder, she’ll start to develop and by the time she’s old enough to have babies she be strong- “like bull.”

Arwen is ready for kindergarten (”tender-garden” as Charis calls it) and I’m trying not to freak out at the idea of adding “social studies” into our jam packed days.

I am really finding out that I have no tolerance for drama. My entire world seems to operate as a “drama free zone” and I find it deeply offensive when someone tries to interfere with that space. I wonder why?

I’ve also realized that there is one thing I do that greatly simplifies my life with little people, and I’m surprised to find that lots of Mammas have not discovered this truth, so I’ll enlighten you all: YOU ARE NOT A SHORT ORDER COOK. Cook one thing and make everyone eat it right then. If they don’t want it they can be hungry until the next time you offer them something. When we have breakfast we ALL have eggs, or we ALL have pancakes, or we ALL have oatmeal. No one gets to choose. I might let them choose what I put on their bagels on a really good day when I’ve had a lot of rest, but usually they just eat what I put in front of them. If they complain, I take it away. Period. End of story. At snack time we have… trail mix. They don’t get to pick which nuts they get more of, or just eat the raisins. If they don’t like it, they don’t have to eat it, but they aren’t getting anything else until we eat again. This is fundamental to having a peaceful and sane home.

{Due to recent events I have to include a disclaimer with this one: I’m totally not speaking to anyone that I know here, I’m just throwing this out there. Please don’t hear what I’m not saying} Really, what is the point of having a natural birth in the hospital? Isn’t the whole point of being in the hospital to be checked, monitored, interfered with, and medicated? If you don’t want/need any of those things, why be there? I feel so badly for Mammas who just have to lay there and be poked and checked and struggle through it. That must be really tremendously uncomfortable. Anyone who has had an unmedicated hospital birth of any sort is a hero in my book.

Oh yeah, I’m pregnant still. 28 weeks currently, and I’ve outgrown all of my clothes. In my head, I have secretly nick named myself “Behemoth”. It’s okay, I know you are laughing. =D Normally, I find the last 10 weeks to be the most difficult, but it seems to have set in early this time. I cry very easily, I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m uncomfortable, and somehow usually manage to mumble “It’s totally worth it” at the end of every day. I just love having babies. There is nothing better than a baby, as my Mimi says. We are all getting very excited about meeting this new little person. Who, I’m sure by the way is totally not cooperating with a good fetal position. It’s okay. I’m certain that my hips are wide enough that I could have a baby sideways and live to tell about it. Really, I’d prefer head first, but I’m not worried. Thankfully, my midwife is one of the few who are capable and skilled at breech births. Those midwives- worth their weight in gold AND silver, they are. Sigh.

Luckily for you, it’s time for my {second} dinner. I promise that next time I sit to write it will be with purpose and clarity.

Yeah right. Umm. I promise that next time I sit to write I will turn off the chatter in my mind and have one cohesive thought. Okay. No promises, but I will try.

Hi! I'm Missi, mother to five fun kids, student midwife, married to the love of my life, child of God. I'm a truth teller, a straight shooter, a donut lover, a story teller, and I love to laugh. People find my life interesting, so I write about it. If you don't like it, don't look.